


Screw Quadrants, Kiss Everyone

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Birthday, Kissing, Multi, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-14
Updated: 2012-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-31 04:12:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/339752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Beta kids meet up in the new universe to celebrate their birthdays.  It does not go as planned.</p><p>Inspired by tumblr user PaperPie: http://paperpie.tumblr.com<br/>And this image: http://paperpie.tumblr.com/post/17584096467/screw-quadrants-kiss-everyone</p><p>EDIT: About 2 hours in firefox crashed and I lost all of this.  This is a rewrite and as such the last half is severely changed and truncated.  I don't have it in me to retype the 1000+ words I had before it was lost.  Sucks now... oh well.  Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Screw Quadrants, Kiss Everyone

Your name is John Egbert.

You have no idea where you are or what time it is.  All you can recall is confirming plans with your bro-for-life, Dave Strider, and your other two friends, Rose and Jade.  But that was days ago, wasn't it?  Slowly you push yourself up off the bed--no, not a bed.  It seems you've fallen asleep on a couch.  At least it was comfy.  You peer around but everything is too blurry despite the glasses sitting on your face.  Sluggishly you reach up to remove them and leave a big fingerprint on the glass when you encounter an edge unexpectedly.  Uh-oh.

You remove the glasses and blink at the unfamiliar frame.  They're perfectly round and have no actual frame, just the bridge and arm-thingies that hold them onto your ears.  You never did figure out what those were called.  Then again the whole idea of learning about the anatomy of glasses is kind of inane and pointless right now.  You conclude that this is, actually, stupid.

You set the glasses down on the table and start to peer around.  Despite having limited vision you can still make out vague shapes and sizes.  You certainly won't be reading anything without your glasses but that, again, is really kind of secondary to figuring out where you are.  Some blind swatting proves that the space in front of you is clear and you stand up, staggering toward the nearest large flat object in hopes that the blurry white mass is a wall you can feel your way along with.  Hopefully then you can find a phone or a computer and contact a friend to figure out what the _hell_ happened.  You're pretty sure there's something in your pocket, too.  You reach down to grab it and your foot catches on something laying in your path.  As you topple you curse the heavens for the lack of foresight, or indeed, sight at all.

The object you caught your foot on squeaks and yelps and swats at your leg as you go down.  You manage to crawl a few feet away and look back, squinting as hard as you can to see who, or what, you've tripped over.  After a moment you figure it out by the mass of black hair.

"Jade?  Is that you...?"

_== > Be Jade._

Your name is Jade Harley.

Until a few seconds ago you were curled up on a cozy patch of floor, dozing off the headache you'd woken up with, until someone came along and kicked you.  Now you're just holding your side and glaring at them through... wait.  These aren't your glasses.  You take them off and hold them back a little so you can see, and realize the frames are square and solid.  You're confused until the person who kicked you says your name.

"Huh?  John?  Oh!" You jump and crawl over to him--say, why does it feel breezy on your stomach?  odd--and squint so you can offer him his glasses.  He blinks--you think--and accepts them, seeming very relieved when he puts them on.

"Thanks, Jade.  Here, I have yours too," he says, and offers up your rounder, cuter glasses.

"Oh, good.  I was kind of worried..." you murmur in thanks as you take them and put them on.  Oh, great.  Somehow they got a big greasy thumbprint.  You sigh in aggravation as you take them off and reach for a corner of shirt to clean them off on... and your hand rests on bare belly.  You blink yet again and thrust the glasses back onto your face, looking down.  What you see makes you flush so hard you're afraid that blood will explode out of your cheeks, or at least that you'll burst into flames.

Rather than your usual shirt you have a button-up polo on.  It's wide open, most of the buttons torn away.  A single black mark is on your stomach--black lipstick, you're pretty sure, which makes this even more horrifying.  With a jolt you realize John is staring at your open display.  You quickly pull it shut.

"W-what are you staring at, John?" you ask archly, frowning at him.  He blushes guiltily but at least doesn't look away, instead making eye contact.

"Well... um..." he trails off uncertainly, looking around, and soon forgets whatever he was about to say.  You glare for a moment longer and then look around as well.

Now you get why he got speechless.

_== > Be Dave,_

You're Dave Strider.

What the fuck happened?  You honestly have no goddamn clue what happened.  All you know is that you can't remember and your head is pounding.  After some cursory shifting you also realize you have no underwear on.  In fact your only article of clothing on seems to be a pair of jeans.  And of course your shades.

No Strider goes without his shades.

Even _if_ they're currently in douchebag position on top of your head.  You spare a clumsy moment in effort to remedy the situation but soon give up trying.  It's just too goddamn annoying right now.  Then again you can only lay here, clutching your head, for so long.  You sit up partway and look around, recognizing that you're in your apartment at least.  This was where the meetup was supposed to take place.  Presumably it did, and was fucking rad as befits a party thrown by you.

Then again you have no idea what actually happened.  Your view could be better, too, since right now you're wedged between the box spring and mattress of your bed, or at least your legs and hips are.  You're pretty sure one foot's fallen asleep under there too.  Either way it's going to be a struggle to get out. 

It takes you a solid half hour to wiggle free, thanks in no small part to your aching skull and numb legs.  When you do pop free you just lay there on the floor for a minute or two, trying to compose your cool.  Nothing phases a Strider.  Except, well... the lack of memory is really kind of disturbing.  That may have rocketed you clear past "phased" and into "deeply concerned".  Either way, still unphased, cool preserved.

You stand after a moment, testing your legs to make sure feeling is restored before putting any weight on them.  A sweep of your room shows nothing is amiss there.  You try and fail to scrounge for a clean shirt and decide to just say fuck it--it's your apartment, after all, who cares what you wear?  You make these jeans look good anyway.  You head out of your room and go down the hallway into the living room, where you spot John and Jade.  Jade has a black lipstick mark on her cheek and her shirt is open.  John has pink and black marks, and you think you spot your underwear poking out of his pocket.  They're both staring at something.  You start to say something along the lines of asking why the fuck your underwear is on John's person when you follow their gaze and all words stop.

==> _Be Rose._

You're now Rose.

 You feel remarkably comfortable.  Like you're on a cloud of comfort.  It's amazing to think one could be so warm, feel so safe and cozy.  You also believe you're quite naked, but that's okay.  Everything is okay here, in this place of warmth and comfort.  You have to shift just a little, though, because something is starting to poke into your side.  You push at it and grunt--doesn't it know it's disrupting your sleep?--and then give in and move a little.  That shift is enough to send you sliding out of the wooden dining room chair and onto the floor, which wakes you right the hell up.  Firstly you become aware that yes.  You are naked.  Stripped down to aught but your underwear.  Second, everyone was staring at you naked until a moment ago when Dave approached and prodded your shoulder.  He's offering a shirt now, not looking, even though it's clear--the evidence is there--that he liked what he saw.  You snatch the shirt away and pull it on, standing, tugging it down over yourself--at least you have panties on.

You barely look him in the eye as you thank him and glance at John and Jane.  Something about them gives you pause... and then you have it.  The lipstick.  Their faces and lips are smeared with both black and pink lipstick.

Horror wells up inside of you and you realize what must have happened.  You touch your lips and come away with both black and pink.  The implications are clear as day.

After a cursory search for your clothes--all of which are missing--you and the others discover a digital camera.  Hearts heavy, you decide to give it to Dave for screening.  He seems all at once pleased and disturbed by what he sees.

"Well, Dave?  You may as well share the damage."  Your voice is tight from the tension you have built up.  Somewhere deep you hope that he just deletes them.

He doesn't.

==> _So what's on that camera?_

You're amazed.  This camera holds every single answer.  It shows how you all met up and chatted like normal people, and then how Dirk crashed the party for a bit.  Apparently he brought Roxy, and she got you all started drinking, and it sort of deteriorated from there.  It wasn't all bad, though.  Especially not the ones of you pinning Rose to the wall and kissing her, grabbing her.  Clearly she approves by her responses in the photos.  So did Jade.

And John.

Instead of divulging this to your friends you shrug and pocket the camera.

"Nothing here, guys.  Sorry to say.  I guess it'll remain a mystery forever."  Rose sags with relief next to you, but John and Jade look disappointed.  You almost smirk.  Maybe last night was just a harbinger of what was to come.


End file.
